


drawbridge

by deuteroscopies



Series: the prophet and the king [15]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - American Revolution, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Sex, Claiming, Dominance, Forest Sex, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Porn Video, Prisoner of War, Rough Sex, Supernatural Elements, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:46:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21679216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deuteroscopies/pseuds/deuteroscopies
Summary: The confrontation with Martin Adjaye is still looming, but due to a strange being named Mr Raw throwing the residents of Soapberry Springs into fantastical 'battle' situations to be televised for the entertainment of his goblin patrons, Freddie and Ephram find themselves on opposite sides of the American Revolution. Not that they care overmuch to adhere to historical accuracy, when a quick bonk in the woods is more appealing and provides just as much viewing value.
Relationships: Freddie Watts/Ephram Pettaline
Series: the prophet and the king [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551673
Kudos: 1





	drawbridge

**Author's Note:**

> > Freddie Watts = Tom Hardy FC, Ephram Pettaline = Boyd Holbrook FC. These stories are set in the supernatural town of Soapberry Springs, in the Pacific Northwest. Freddie is a fairy con man from London, with cobalt-coloured dragonfly wings and silver fairy dust, who has a Japanese Chin familiar named Oliver; Ephram is a witch from impoverished East Kentucky who shares his body with a demon called Anaxis and has green magic of his own.
>> 
>> [the prophet and the king 'verse tumblr](http://theprophetandtheking.tumblr.com/)   
> 

_it's up to you to live_ , said Mr. Raw. And that was the last thing Ephram recalled before it all went black.

When Ephram came to, he was lying next to a woodpile. It still looked like Soapberry Springs in the dimness, the moon shining brightly in its usual place in the sky, but as he sat up Ephram realized that a) he had a bayonet and b) he was dressed like the kind of man who’d carry a bayonet. “Fuckin’…” he rumbled as he got to his feet, looking down at his Union uniform. “I’m a goddamn Yankee?”  
  
A hiss nearby startled him, and Ephram swung around with his musket at the ready only to see a goblin tricked out the same way he was. “Be quiet!” the goblin ordered in a gravelly voice. “You’ll alert the redcoats! You’re supposed to be keeping watch, Pettaline.” A few other goblins came skulking over, deftly collecting up the woodpile into bundles and making off. The head one pointed at Ephram. “No sleeping on the job or we’ll have you hanged off the parapet.” Ephram belatedly saluted the goblin as it waddled off after the others.  
  
“Alert the redcoats?” Ephram murmured to himself, and as if his words had the power of conjuring, he saw the vague movement through the trees of a ruddy-clothed figure. Crouching, Ephram made his way quietly through the trees, creeping closer to the British soldier with bayonet at the ready. But once he got close enough, he stood up in the underbrush. There was no mistaking the set of those shoulders and that particular gait, even in the stuffy uniform. “Freddie?”  
  
Freddie heard the rustle and crackle of movement in the underbrush before he was able to see what was coming - or which specific direction it was coming from - clutching his antiquated weapon, and hoping he wasn’t going to need to use it, when suddenly he heard his name, and spun around to face the voice that had hissed it; grinning when he saw his husband staring back at him.  
  
“Oh, thank Christ, darling,” he breathed, moving closer to pull Ephram into an awkward embrace, both of them having to negotiate around their firearms and Freddie’s ridiculous uniform. “Where in the bloody hell are we? I mean, the last thing I remember, we were in that little cafe, and then I opened my eyes in the middle of the flaming woods. Just in time to get a bollocking off a uniformed goblin, who claims to be my superior officer.”  
  
“Apparently,” the fairy went on, keeping his voice low, “-you horrible Yanks are stealing all of our timber, and encroaching on our territory, and I’m supposed to keep watch tonight and make sure you don’t manage it.” Freddie held up his gun, and sighed. “With this.”  
  
“The only trouble, of course,” he added sardonically, attempting to adjust his large hat, “-is that I don’t give a toss about any of that rubbish, and I can’t even begin to sort out how we got here in the first place.”  
  
“We’re still in Soapberry,” Ephram said, moving his hand to help keep Freddie’s hat atop his head. “But obviously some kinda … Revolutionary War business?” He patted his own musket, which he’d settled on the ground with the handle leaned against his hip. “I’m keeping an eye out to make sure you stuck-up Limeys don’t catch us with the wood we got every right to cut.”  
  
He grinned, dusting his hand along Freddie’s shoulders. “You look right fancy, though!” Ephram declared in admiration. “Figures you’d fit a uniform like you was born on the march.” Attempting to stop ogling his husband at this very inopportune time, Ephram shook himself a little and said, “You saw that feller at that start, right? The one who said we was gonna be televised and all that?” The camera drone buzzed cheerily above their heads, happy to be name-dropped. Ephram looked askance at it as he continued, “so I reckon that’s what’s going on here.” He gave a fond laugh, kissing the bridge of Freddie’s nose and then the side of it, their eyelashes tangling briefly. “You just gotta go with these things when they happen, babe. That’s what living in Soapberry is all about.”  
  
“Stuck up Limeys?” Freddie protested, his eyes twinkling through his put-on indignation, “I’m wounded, darling. Here we are, defending ourselves and our trees against all of you frightfully rough and ready Americans - only to be insulted to boot. It’s terribly unfair.”  
  
“I’m glad you like the uniform though,” he said, leaning in to kiss Ephram’s grin with one of his own. “That look in your eyes almost makes up for this nightmare of a hat.”  
  
The fairy groaned a little, vaguely remembering the exchange his husband was describing - something about cameras and war games - though whatever he’d been given, or spelled with, to knock him out had wiped the finer details. “I suppose I do,” he conceded, in reference to going with the flow, “Never a dull moment in Sumner, yeah?” Freddie grinned again when Ephram laughed. “But be honest, sweetheart - do I make a better Centurion or a Redcoat? Because I feel a bit like a Nutcracker at the moment, if I’m honest…”

“But what about you, sweetheart? Are you alright?” Freddie gave Ephram as much of a once-over as he could, glad that he seemed to be no worse for wear. “Fancy your own personal P.O.W?”

Nodding at Freddie’s question, Ephram said, “I’m fine, honey. The rest of my goblin buddies left me food and water and a horse blanket, if you wanna come share.” He nibbled at Freddie’s eyebrow, following it with a grooming lick or two. “I think they’d be right impressed if I caught myself a prisoner.” With a wolfish grin, Ephram kissed Freddie and then undid some of the cord and sash from his uniform, tying up Freddie’s wrists and then tugging at the length of cord he’d left free. “You come along peaceably now to yon watch-spot, soldier,” Ephram instructed, sounding stern and delighted at the same time. “Refrain from trying to escape or attack me, and you’ll find that being my captive is a downright fuckin’ pleasure.”  
  
Making a low noise of encouragement as Ephram kissed and nuzzled at him, Freddie huffed out a chuckle of his own. “I honestly never thought a horse blanket could sound so appealing,” he murmured, returning his witch’s kiss, and then watching, a little flutter of excitement starting low in his belly, as Ephram bound his wrists and began pulling him through the woods.  
  
There was more than a little heat in his gaze as he allowed himself to be towed along. “You know, now that you mention it, I do think I’m duty-bound as a British subject to attempt to escape,” he mused, “-but I’m sure I could be enticed to behave myself…”  
  
Freddie smirked. “It all rather depends on just what do you intend to do with me.”  
  
“Nutcracker’s a lil harsh to describe yourself as, darlin’.” Ephram shot a grin at Freddie as he ran one hand down the front of his fairy’s red uniform coat and all the braiding and rickrack there, briefly cupping between his legs. “But yeah, the Centurion getup had a certain sexy leather-and-olive-oil thing going on. Plus them feather crest helmets got this stovepipe beat by a country mile.”  
  
Ephram was glad that Freddie was taking this with a light heart. It didn’t seem as though they were in any real danger – the goblin soldiers mostly buttled around and left them to their own business, so far – and god knew, they could both use a break from being worried about their partners’ safety. Maybe this interlude wouldn’t take Freddie’s mind entirely off the encroaching danger of Martin Adjaye, but at least it was some respite. Where they could be together, as Freddie’d asked, to themselves. If you didn’t count the drone, which Ephram didn’t.  
  
The willingness with which Freddie tripped after him in the dark, wrists roughly bound and leashed, was enough to make the warmth in Ephram’s belly creep higher and hotter. If indeed Freddie had any experience with navigating remote forest at night (which Ephram was willing to bet he decidedly did _not_ ), he wouldn’t at any rate be as expert at it as the witch was. There were a lot of intermingled emotions that Freddie’s compliance hinted at, and each one of them just made Ephram hungrier for his husband.  
  
When he reached the small camp where the woodpile had been, Ephram stopped and about-faced, reeling Freddie in by the cord. When the man was close enough, Ephram latched one hand in the cloth around Freddie’s wrists, yanking him the small distance between them. “Oh, I expect you to try and escape, soldier,” he growled, knocking the uniform hat off with his other hand and stroking it down Freddie’s hair, holding him there. “Because if you don’t after I … get to know you some … then you’re gonna be sitting behind me on that horse blanket atop my horse when I get back to the fort. And then the captain’s gonna put me in charge of you for as long as you’re there. Who _knows_ what sorts've unholy uses I might find for you.” He smiled, nosing against Freddie before kissing him, gently but with a passionate groan. “Ah, god, Freddie. You make everything better, you know that? Just goddamn _everything_.”  
  
Freddie amused himself as they walked thinking of the way Ephram had groped him through his uniform trousers, and wondering if he planned on keeping him bound once they arrived at the Americans’ camp. The fairy certainly wouldn’t be disappointed if he did.  
  
Because as jarring and odd as all this was - and vaguely ominous, Freddie supposed; though he wasn’t exactly feeling particularly endangered at the moment - he had to admit that it had the potential to be rather fun at the same time. Whatever this was, Martin Adjaye couldn’t reach him here; and the idea of a little getaway with his husband was very very appealing.  
  
Especially since neither of them were opposed to having an audience, and Freddie had to admit that Ephram looked rather fetching as a soldier…  
  
Once they arrived at the little make-shift camp, the relative merit and consequence of escape bandied back and forth for a moment, Ephram pulled Freddie close; manhandling him just enough to be exciting, and teasing out his control, before letting the roleplay fade, and smiling again, his kisses soft but ardent.  
  
And Freddie kissed back, leaning up and gripping Ephram’s blue jacket with his tied hands, smiling when he came away again.  
  
“I bet you say that to all your prisoners,” he teased lightly, before tugging Ephram closer; his smile softening on his reddened lips. “But the same goes, love. Being with you has been one of the great joys of my life…”  
  
Realizing that he was drifting into something that sounded like a good-bye - the real world’s influence still never far away - Freddie trailed off and kissed Ephram again, hungrier this time, dirtier; a little breathless when they broke apart. “Now where’s your commanding goblin, sweetheart? Or are we alone for the duration?”  
  
“My commanding goblin!” Ephram repeated, highly entertained at the notion when spoken aloud like that. He remembered belatedly to actually answer Freddie’s question, nodding, “They’s all gone back to the fort to find somewheres to hide the wood, or something along them lines. We’re just you and me, sunshine.” Ephram pressed his forehead against Freddie’s, nosing gently against him before walking against the fairy until he was backed up against a tree. “Your wings all bunched up under that pretty red coat, huh?” he demanded, turning Freddie around and pinning his bound wrists above his head. “Let’s just take a look here and see if you Brits do it any different than us here. Tie em up with fancy ribbons or the like.”  
  
He leaned one hip against Freddie’s to stabilize him and pushed his thick red jacket up, quickly followed by the white shirt beneath. “Red white and blue,” Ephram said, ducking to nibble along the line of one cobalt-coloured dragonfly wing, sucking against the curved tip of it. “A fuckin’ patriot right down to the bone.”  
  
Their interlude of more serious, real-life affection had been good, a touchstone, but Ephram too was glad to dive back into the make-believe, the playing around that they’d been good at since day one. And Freddie was beautiful, so rumpled and sweet and familiar, so eager for them to be together. Ephram felt a surge of possessive fervour twisting his insides as he inhaled the particular ozone and almond scent of his fairy’s wings – that was how they seemed to him, anyhow – and moved his mouth against the base of each wing, where the skin was hot and hard beneath with whatever structure Freddie’s fae anatomy demanded.  
  
 _You’ll never belong to him again_ , Ephram thought, straightening and shoving his hips against Freddie’s backside, hard already and wanting his husband to know it. “You’re _mine_ , soldier,” he muttered against Freddie’s ear. “And I’m fixin’ to make sure you damn well _know it_.”  
  
Freddie moaned a bit louder than he meant to when Ephram’s mouth found the edge of his wing, his cock jumping; but given that there was apparently no-one nearby to take exception - other than that eager little drone - the fairy didn’t let it concern him. Ephram’s concentrated attention on his wings, now that they were finally back to normal - that hot, sinful mouth moving over hypersensitive flesh - was all encompassing, and Freddie’s body responded to it like nothing else.  
  
His cock thickening in his uniform trousers, straining against the fabric as he leaned against the tree, bound hands up over his head, Freddie pushed back against Ephram’s insistent erection, rubbing himself against it. “Oh, I think you’d better,” he murmured, goading him on, “Show me what you Yankees are made of, yeah?”  
  
Ephram’s breath was hot, his lips brushing teasingly against Freddie’s ear, and the fairy turned his head in order to get a look at his husband, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I’m entirely at your mercy…”  
  
Flushed and hungry for more, Freddie rocked back again - pushy and wanting - glancing up when he heard the whir of the little camera-drone over their heads. It buzzed around as though looking for a good angle; and Freddie, oddly amused, chose to ignore it, not caring in the slightest who happened to be watching.  
  
He could feel Ephram, thick and hard, pressed against his ass - his own cock aching in its confines - and the fairy let out a little growl of encouragement. “Come on,” he breathed, “Win my loyalty…”  
  
“ _Win_ your loyalty?” Ephram bit down at the junction of Freddie’s neck and shoulder, sucking a livid bruise there and licking over it as if to seal the colour in. “Listen here, soldier, you’s the property of these here United States now.” He crowded in against Freddie, crushing him against the tree trunk, and pushed behind Freddie’s ear with his nose, folding the cartilage. “I don’t need your _loyalty_ when I got your pretty ass.”  
  
With that, Ephram took his cock out of his roughspun uniform trousers, shirt spilling untidily out around his suspenders. “You gonna get a good branding, king-and-country,” he promised. “The iron’s hot, can’t you feel it?” Ripping at Freddie’s trousers, Ephram slid his hard, already leaking cock against his husband’s ass, the head painting trails in the small of his back. “If you do get to go back to your unit, it’s gonna be with Revolutionary spunk fillin’ your guts.”  
  
The presence of the drone actually made Ephram less inclined to break character; it was remarkably easy to let himself get lost in their roles – wildly historically inaccurate though their rendition might be – and enjoy this, playacting with his beloved Freddie, improvising along with him as they tried their best not to think of this as a goodbye.  
  
Freddie groaned as Ephram bit him, tilting his head to give his husband more room, rocking his hips back again. “Just because you’ve got it doesn’t mean you know what to do with it,” he taunted, enjoying the little bit of fantasy, and the chance to let go of the heaviness of real life for the moment, “If I’m your property, rebel, you’d best make that very clear…”  
  
The words were barely out of his mouth though before Ephram was doing precisely that; tearing Freddie’s trousers down, seams ripping, and pressing his weeping cock to the cleft of the fairy’s newly exposed backside. The heat of it made Freddie bite back a hungry moan, wanting Ephram inside him - in his mouth, or his ass; he didn’t care which - so badly he felt light-headed. “Brand me a traitor’s whore and then send me back?” he gritted out with a smirk instead, “How honourable…”

The one thing that Ephram found difficult about the pretense was to keep from spilling out words of praise, how delectable Freddie looked with that warm flush of desire on his skin, the swell of his lips, the rising scent of his wings, the glorious hardness of his cock when Ephram grabbed him roughly and ground against his muscled backside. “You’re a mighty tasty lil thing,” he grunted instead, stroking Freddie’s cock. “They let you wander round alone? Can’t imagine them fellow Limeys want us dissenters getting a taste of their own lil toffee.”  
  
Turning Freddie around, Ephram kissed him hungrily, licking into Freddie’s mouth. “Put your arms round my neck, there’s a good boy,” he instructed, voice harsh with lust as he wrangled Freddie’s trousers down and lined them up, lifting Freddie’s legs with a grunt as he got them hitched over his hips and keeping the fairy aloft with his own weight and the strength of his arms. “Don’t want you going nowhere while I fuck you.”  
  
The little drone buzzed overhead, and Freddie fought a smile, wondering how their audience was enjoying the show, before letting out a wanton noise of pleasure when his witch’s hand came around to palm him through what remained of his trousers and underclothes. His cock straining for more, caught between the grinding push of his husband’s wet-tipped prick, and the teasing stroke of his hand, the fairy found it harder now to stay in character - but he soldiered on regardless; no pun intended. “Planning on sharing me around then?” he panted, “Or are you the only one who gets to eat his fill?”  
  
A moment later Freddie found himself spun round and kissed breathless; instructed to loop his still-bound arms around Ephram’s neck as his trousers were tugged down and off one leg, his boot thrown aside haphazardly. Doing as he was told, Freddie moaned as he was hefted up - these kinds of demonstrations of Ephram’s strength never failing to go straight to his cock - hooking his legs around his husband’s waist. His wings were protected from the bite of the tree bark by his red coat, the sticky head of Ephram’s cock pressed flush against his hole.  
  
“Go on then,” he challenged, his chest already heaving.  
  
Freddie’s pupils were blown wide with lust, and love, and need; his desperation plain in his eyes if not in his words. “I’m yours, aren’t I, soldier?”  
  
“Might share your arse, yeah,” Ephram grunted, imitating Freddie’s accent, “once I’ve had enough of you. First come, first served, that’s American manners for you, _mate_.” He was looking into Freddie’s eyes, loathe to break that contact for even a moment, wanting to be entirely in every second they had with each other. “But that’s only then. And until that day, Watts…” Ephram pushed into Freddie’s body with a gasp, giving them both a moment to dwell on that connection before he started moving. “You are _very much mine_. Woe befuckintide anybody what says otherwise.”  
  
There was a fierceness behind those words, a frustrated and feral growl that Ephram wasn’t canny enough to disguise. If given the opportunity, he would absolutely have taken the fight directly to Adjaye for better or worse, rage fueling such brash action, but as it was now Ephram had to content himself with throwing all that energy into the belief that Freddie would get out of this somehow.  
  
He found the perfect way to pin Freddie against the tree so that he could pull back more before he thrust in again, and Ephram licked his palm and took hold of Freddie’s cock, pulling it in long brisk strokes. “When I send you back to your men,” he grunted, in between sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, “you’ll be covered in marks from my mouth, my hands. Stained with my cum. Smelling of me from head to toe. What you think they gonna do with you then, redcoat? Take you in and punish you? Or maybe–” Ephram thrust in deeply, grinding Freddie against the thick tree trunk, “they’ll turn your branded ass around and send you right back to me what claimed it. _Christ_ …”  
  
Ephram groaned, growled, his body tight and strained as he started to fuck Freddie again. “You feel like a goddamned dream, the way you take it, the way you look, the way your mouth tastes. Like a trick of the fuckin’ moonlight. Is that it?” He clenched one hand under Freddie’s jaw, tilting his fairy’s head this way and that. “You come down here to make a mooncalf of me, lure me in with your tight hole and your beautiful face?” He was riding a steady rhythm, measured and deep, avidly watching every expression that moved over Freddie’s face.  
  
“American manners?” Freddie huffed, holding Ephram’s gaze; equally unwilling to let anything distract from their being together, from their focus on one another, “There’s no such thing.”  
  
But the sudden burning stretch of penetration, the invasive sweetness of having his husband’s cock buried deep inside him, stole the rest of Freddie’s breath, and he groaned raggedly; doing his best to pull himself up higher with his bound hands, leaning in to steal a desperate kiss from Ephram’s mouth before his witch began to fuck him in earnest.  
  
Ephram’s words, though - and the ferocity behind them - only made Freddie have to steal another; wishing that he never had to stop.  
  
Because there was a part of him that longed a little for that very particular fairy story to come true - for the man he loved to come to his rescue and vanquish the monster; to protect him, and defend him, and prove to Martin Adjaye, once and for all, precisely _who_ Freddie belonged to.  
  
But as lovely a fantasy as it was, Freddie knew that it was next to impossible. All the love and rage in the world wouldn’t keep Ephram alive if Martin wanted him otherwise.  
  
Ephram was powerful - Freddie would swear to that, even if Ephram didn’t quite believe him - but he wasn’t immortal. He could be made to suffer, and then snuffed out like a candle. And Freddie couldn’t allow that to happen. He wouldn’t be able to bear it.  
  
The loss would drive him mad.  
  
Crushed up against the tree - Ephram’s thrusts deep and hard, pulling nearly all the way out before driving back in again; forcing low, short guttural sounds from Freddie’s throat as he clung to him, the muscles in his legs tight and starting to ache - when Ephram grabbed his cock, the fairy let out a moan that was almost immediately swallowed by his husband’s hungry kisses and promises of further debauchery. He gasped out a breathless, “God, _yes_ …” as Ephram ground him against the tree-trunk, his thighs trembling as the cock inside him hit his prostate just right, before he was able to struggle his way back into character.  
  
Staring into Ephram’s eyes, Freddie clenched tight around his witch’s prick, and arched his back, trying to push Ephram deeper. “Liar,” he panted, “You’ll never send me back. You’ll leave me like that, chained to your bed - your redcoat whore; fucked so full of American spunk, and bathed in Southern sweat, that I’m ruined for anything else…”  
  
Freddie licked his red, kiss-swollen lips. “…that I don’t _want_ anything else.”  
  
Ephram growled, and began to fuck into Freddie again, each steady drive making the fairy whine with aching bursts of pleasure, heat gathering in the pit of his stomach and at the base of his spine. But he didn’t want to come yet. He wanted to stave it off, to hold Ephram longer, to keep him close - though he wasn’t sure he’d be able to. His husband was simply too good at loving him for Freddie to be able to slow down the freight train once it had gathered speed.  
  
“No tricks,” he breathed, smiling as Ephram held his jaw, turning him this way and that; his face betraying exactly what his body was feeling with each slide of Ephram’s cock, “If you’re bewitched, rebel, it’s because you want to be.”  
  
“Because you can’t bloody help yourself…”  
  
Freddie drew Ephram closer with his tied arms, kissing him and nuzzling against his face, “Who’s the prisoner _now_ , eh?”  
  
The little drone was buzzing rapidly and non-stop as it spun from angle to angle, but neither of them gave it even the slightest care as it filmed them. It had ceased to matter, the reason that they’d been put here; blotted out entirely by the far more urgent need for them to be close, to be with each other, to drain every last drop of intimacy from these moments as they could.  
  
The fury raging inside Ephram at the devastating implications of their predicament found its way through his hands, his mouth, the drive of his cock into Freddie’s body. If he devoured Freddie, there’d be nothing for Adjaye to steal. If he could hammer and forge Freddie into something unrecognizable to the vampire, crafted by Ephram’s force instead of Adjaye’s, they would evade the fate that so far seemed inevitable. And his husband was so malleable, full of sweetness and glamours and clever playacting, it couldn’t be so hard a cheat, could it?  
  
Ephram’s body worked against Freddie’s as these thoughts raced through his head, making physical the mental impulses; hands digging bruises into Freddie’s flesh and jerking his cock in demanding twists, lips and teeth leaving plummy kisses overlapping with bitemarks and dots of blood; his hips slamming them together so fast and hard that it was all they could do to snatch breaths in between.  
  
And then Freddie said those words to him, taunting Ephram with the kind of ownership he was feverishly conjuring as if the fairy had plucked it straight from his brain. “Yeah,” he panted, cramming all of the other things he wanted to say – how much he loved this man in his arms, how precious he was, how Ephram couldn’t bear the thought of life without him – into the coarse outlines of their wartime script. “Yeah, you’re right, I’m gonna keep you till the end of this goddamn war, redcoat. Mine to fuck whenever, however I want, not just at my mercy but fuckin’ _gagging_ for it, for me to use your mouth and your ass and leave you fucked out and leaking cum and wanting more, every time.”  
  
Orgasm was approaching swiftly and unstoppably, and against the dictates of his desire Ephram slowed, shifting to long, deep thrusts that brought their bodies flush against each other on every instroke. “This is what it’s gonna be for you from now on, soldier,” he grunted, returning Freddie’s nuzzling and kissing. “I can’t help wanting you like this, taking my cock inside you and begging for more like you can’t imagine serving any other purpose. So that’s what’s gonna happen, okay?” Ephram pressed his forehead to Freddie’s, breathing starting to get jerky and rough. “You’re gonna belong to me, just me, _only_ me, and I’m gonna fuck you to pieces and you’re gonna love it more than anything else that’s ever happened to you, and then we’ll … we’ll….”  
  
Any other plans that Ephram might have babbled out were lost as he bared his teeth, a pained groan escaping him as he pumped his release deep inside Freddie’s body. Hips still riding against his fairy, Ephram gave the palm of his hand a broad lick and then spit in it, returning his grip to Freddie’s cock and working the stiff member as he lifted his eyes to meet Freddie’s. “Come on,” Ephram murmured. “Come on, baby, show me, show me how much you love this.” _How much you love me, how much we love each other_.  
  
Whatever the audience on the other side of the drone thought that they were watching - rough sex, domination, a show of strength and a concession of control - Freddie knew better. The harder Ephram fucked him - pounding into Freddie mercilessly as the fairy panted and whined in his arms; unable to choke back his little sobs of pleasure at every kiss and every bite, every bruising touch and driving thrust - the more undeniable it became that there was so much more to it than that.  
  
So much more that Ephram was saying.  
  
But the message was intended only for Freddie.  
  
This was a claiming. An assertion of the truth, no matter what else might follow. A pledge of love and devotion, hidden in plain sight; promises disguised as vulgarity.  
  
It was almost like a wedding vow - _what therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder_ \- sworn in sweat and need and cum; and absolutely no less beautiful for it. No less meaningful.  
  
If anything, because of what they shared - what they needed from each other; the depth of their love and their hunger - it felt like it meant _more_.  
  
The fairy could barely speak by the time Ephram’s forehead came to rest against his - his mouth having fallen open, chest heaving, as his witch took him; riding the cock inside him hard - but he nodded at the words ‘ _just me, only me_ ’, gritting out his desperate broken confirmation in return.  
  
“You,” Freddie gasped, butting his face against Ephram’s; nosing against his cheek, breathing his air, “…only you…”  
  
And when Ephram came, only seconds after, groaning raggedly - filling Freddie, marking him, scenting him as his - the fairy felt his eyes well up with inexplicable tears. Tears that would humiliate him later, but for now, only made him cling to his husband that much harder; dangling, as he was, on the precipice of his own orgasm.  
  
His cock throbbing, ass aching as he clenched around Ephram’s prick, when Ephram’s spit-slick hand wrapped around him again, Freddie buckled and moaned, curling in on himself before he could meet his witch’s eyes again; but still, he managed it; forcing himself to lift his face. Holding Ephram’s gaze as his cock was stroked, his own gray eyes full of naked adoration, Freddie finally let go with a wrenching cry, cumming hard and spattering Ephram’s Union blues with thick white ropes of semen.  
  
He rolled his hips until it was over, and then, breathless, sagged heavily against his witch; his face hidden from the drone, his voice barely audible as he whispered, “Just you, Ephram… always…”  
  
He’d forgotten how to say anything else.


End file.
